


A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More Touch Me

by frozenasphalt



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, American AU, Bad Puns, Breathplay, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Hipsters, Humiliation kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Painplay, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Public Blow Jobs, Sexual Humor, Spanking, Vegetarians & Vegans, again i try to be funny and....i'm Not, but just go with it, corny goop ugh, honestly just be prepared to cringe a lot, suchen are really gross in this, the logic is questionable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:51:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8328658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenasphalt/pseuds/frozenasphalt
Summary: Jongdae wants to be slapped around in the bedroom but doesn't know how to bring it up to his Soft™ boyfriend Joonmyeon.





	1. Collar Full

**Author's Note:**

> I've waited so damn long  
> I've got a collar full of chemistry from your company  
> So maybe tonight I'll be the libertine  
> [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZAIEAG6Vgk)

**Oh, show me your love, your love**

**Gimme more but it's not enough**

 

* * *

 Concentration stitches Joonmyeon's eyebrows together and a sliver of tongue peeks out against his pierced lip as he crafts what looks like a pair of sandals out of old tire with a pocket knife. Jongdae decides to keep the questions he has to himself, instead continues to scrutinize the boy on his screen, deep concern for his boyfriend’s safety quarreling with the heat he feels kindling in his stomach; Joonmyeon is wearing that shirt he likes, the deep v-neck that shows off his tatted collar and hugs his biceps just right. He adjusts the crotch of his pants, suddenly all too tight, fighting the urge to somehow travel through his Mac Book Pro and confiscate the knife from Joonmyeon, chide him about playing with sharp objects and tell him to go sit in a corner (after ravishing him).

Jongdae has gathered that Joonmyeon Kim really isn’t the type of person who should be allowed to handle anything pointier than chopsticks (one time he almost poked his eye out with the back of a plastic spork). He counts two Spongebob-patterned band aids on Joonmyeon’s hands already and can’t help but wince each time the oversized kid swivels in his chair while he bobs along to the obscure indie music playing in the background. God, now he’s started to pantomime belting out high notes, using the hilt of his knife as a mic and Jongdae refuses to watch this any longer.

“What song is this?” Jongdae asks.

Putting a pause to his performance, Joonmyeon sets his knife aside and Jongdae can breathe again. He watches Joonmyeon take a bite of his breakfast (some kind of over-night oat mixture in a mason jar) and then send over a link that reads, “‘ _The City_ ’ by The Dismemberment Plan”.

Jongdae adjusts his glasses, squints at the text. “ _Who_ …?”

Joonmyeon looks at Jongdae as if he’s just dissed the entire _Star Wars_ franchise. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them.”

“I don’t think _anyone’s_ ever heard of them.”

“From now on, we no longer associate,” Joonmyeon deadpans. He straitens his posture and pushes his Ray-Ban Wayfarers up the bridge of his nose. “Go back to your synthpop or whatever it is you twinks like to listen to in Italy.” Jongdae snorts. Joonmyeon acts like his music taste is so superior because it doesn't consist of mostly mainstream pop and club-bangers like Jongdae's, but Jongdae will never let him live down that one time he caught him humming along to One Direction’s _“What A Feeling”_. “Speaking of, you haven’t given me my Italian word of the day as yet.”

Jongdae smirks. “The word of the day is… _succhiatore_.” His voice drops an octave and he says the word slowly, rolling the r more than necessary for effect. He laughs when Joonmyeon stiffens, jaw dropping in captivation.

“Whoa, that’s hot,” Joonmyeon croaks. “Wait. What does it mean?”

“It means cock-sucker. As in, ‘Joonmyeon is a  _succhiatore_ ’.”

“Well, that’s just lewd.”

“But it’s also very, _very_ true.”

Joonmyeon opens and closes his mouth like a fish and it’s obvious he wants to argue, but he says nothing because, well. _Yeah_.

Once he's done giggling at the face Joonmyeon's pulling, Jongdae changes the subject. "What do you have on for this weekend?"

“Work, mostly. On Saturday, Baekhyun wants to drag me to Kyungsoo’s dorm party, but I might skip in favor of going to see that foreign French film I was telling you about with Minseok. Because Baekhyun plus alcohol usually equals me scrubbing vomit off and or out of my TOMS at some point. You?”

“Nothing much.”

“What do you mean, ‘ _nothing much_ ’? You live in Rome, for Christ's sakes. Rome. _Roma_. _The Eternal City_!” Joonmyeon over-enunciates the words, gesticulating ardently with his hands. “That place is teeming with so much art and culture, there’s no way you’ve seen it all yet. Don’t you want to see it all, like, now?”

Crossing his arms against his chest, Jongdae slumps back in his chair. “It’s true; I haven’t seen all of it,” he says. “But I’ve seen a lot of it, and it gets sorta boring after a while. You can only see so many coliseums and monuments before they all start to look the same, you know?”

"I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that. Surely the city offers an array of things for Cool Kids like you. Like shopping at Via Condotti? Mingling with locals at clubs, e.g. Trastevere or Madonna De Monti? People-watching at piazzas and making fun of old, posh couples decked out in leather? Pigging out on endless gelato till you barf?” Joonmyeon stops to catch his breath. He’s red in the face from talking so fast and he looks like he might cry. Jongdae laughs because if it weren't for Joonmyeon's crippling case of aviophobia, he'd visit Jongdae in Rome every chance he got. “ _Mi piace I'talia moltissimo_. You’re so lucky. Can I have your life? I’m going to _steal_ it.”

Jongdae doesn’t know why his heart swells at those words. He nibbles his lip, shaking his head in fond disbelief as Joonmyeon rambles on about his adoration for Rome. Joonmyeon’s voice goes hoarse the way it always does when he talks about things he’s passionate about, eyesmile bright, dimples bared, and yeah, Jongdae thinks Joonmyeon is right. He is lucky.

Of course Jongdae is completely enamored with Rome and wants to see as much of it as possible but he’s also kind of enamored with Joonmyeon which has posed a problem as of late considering the distance between Manhattan and Rome (four thousand two hundred and eighty-one miles, six thousand eight hundred and eighty-nine kilometers, and three thousand seven hundred and seventeen nautical miles to be exact. Jongdae memorizes numbers easily, shhh).

What Joonmyeon doesn’t know is that Jongdae had been planning a surprise visit this weekend. It was on a whim that Jongdae decided to book a last minute flight to the states. Though it’s only a three day weekend, he has no idea when their schedules will correlate this perfectly again so even though he has a project due that he hasn't even started on, he decided seeing Joonmyeon was paramount. His pockets aren’t thanking him; he’s broke as it is and plane tickets aren’t cheap but he could care less about that.

Jongdae has never been in a long-distance relationship before this and they’re just as grueling as everyone says they are. The guilt that comes along with mutually jerking off with Joonmyeon on webcam and getting his keyboard so sticky to the point where his parents have to send him money for a new laptop is eating him alive. The late night phone sex is spectacular, but biting back moans while his roommate sleeps in the bed just feet away isn't ideal, and running to the toilets on campus to finger himself after Joonmyeon sexts him when he’s supposed to be headed to his next class has happened too many times to count. He isn’t sure how long he can endure this without spontaneously combusting.

If Jongdae is sure of anything, though, it’s that Joonmyeon is the best boyfriend he's ever had. Joonmyeon sends the most thoughtful gifts consisting mostly of penny dreadfuls and books by his favorite poets, every one of which Jongdae makes sure to read. (The most recent is _"Howl"_ by Allen Ginsberg which Jongdae tried to get through once in high school but he could never make it past the line “endless cock and balls” without giggling like a ten-year-old girl. The second time is no different.)

Though his mind isn’t nearly as profound as Joonmyeon’s and he doesn’t quite understand or appreciate the books he’s into, Jongdae thinks the thought is sweet. Sweeter are the hand-knitted scarves and sweaters made from recycled yarn because Joonmyeon has a penchant for reusing almost everything. Jongdae especially likes the rings, necklaces and bracelets re-purposed from spoons and forks because Joonmyeon’s also got a knack for silverware art (which Jongdae had no idea existed beforehand).

The weekly mix tapes are his favorite. They consist of corny hipster love songs (50% The Shins) that remind Joonmyeon of Jongdae, the lyrics of which most times will be written in chicken-scratch on the backs of intricately folded paper cranes. Sometimes Joonmyeon neglects the lyrics for scrawling bad puns and cheesy pick up lines that Jongdae will never admit make him smile like a love-sick idiot.

Time and again, Jongdae feels undeserving because he’s nowhere near as astute or as adept as Joonmyeon is. So, as often as he can, he sends him souvenirs like t-shirts and posters and magnets and gift-boxes of food that Joonmyeon receives as diamonds because he doesn’t want expensive gifts from Jongdae anyway. He’d much prefer Jongdae’s Instagram posts or Snaps of him and his new friends fumbling about their day on campus or around the city, posing and making obscene gestures in front of monuments. He treasures their Skype and Facetime sessions which have been scheduled since the day Jongdae had first moved into his dorm and met his roommate, since he finished his first day of college and struggled to hold back tears of joy because he still couldn’t believe he’d made it this far.

Jongdae interrupts one of Joonmyeon’s orations on landfills in part because he's ten minutes late for his afternoon class but mostly because the butterflies in his stomach are becoming cause for concern. “ _Devo andare_. Facetime you later, yeah?”

“Sì. Ciao!”

 

* * *

The streets of Rome are awash with natives and tourists alike, buzzing amid the piazzas, knocking shoulders on the sidewalks. Jongdae fails to ignore the way his stomach bawls as the smell of roasted olives wafts past his nostrils and stops to order a quick bite from the street vendor. The vintage boutique he maunders into is quaint and Jongdae has trouble at first finding what he wants, but the owner, a small, pleasant Florentine man offers to assist him in a smattering of English. He's delightfully staggered when Jongdae responds and continues to converse in perfect Italian, and soon, Jongdae settles on a handsome porkpie hat and a hand-knitted scarf (both 100% hemp) that are just Joonmyeon’s style.

As he waves goodbye and exits the shop, his phone vibrates. He doesn’t want to answer when he sees the name and picture that pop up on his screen but his thumb finds its way to the green circle at the last moment. He regrets the decision as soon as he puts the phone to the side of his head and the voice on the other end explodes through his eardrums, causing a frown to wrinkle his chin.

“Yo! Were you not gonna pick up? Rude.”

Jongdae breathes out a chuckle. “What’s up, Baekhyun?”

“Sadly, not my cock,” Baekhyun remarks. “At the moment, anyway. Are you on your way to the airport yet?”

“Not yet. I still have to go home and pack a few things first.”

“Cool. So, I meant to ask; do you still need help spicing up your sex life? Or _lack thereof_?”

Jongdae chokes on air. One night not too long ago in an alcohol-induced moment of boldness, he’d made the mistake of drunk-dialing Baekhyun, divulging one of his darkest kinks. The next day, when Baekhyun had texted him an (exaggerated, gayer) summary of his confession he was glad he hadn’t told Joonmyeon those things because he probably would have broken up with him straight afterwards. Jongdae's mortification was allayed; Baekhyun at least refrained from airing his dirty laundry all over twitter but he hasn't heard the end of it till this day.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play coy. I believe your exact words were, “I always wear chokers because i'm addicted to the feeling; I need daddy to wrap his hands around my neck while he pipes me into the next dimension with his _huge_ donkey dick!”

Heat radiates up Jongdae's neck. He brings a self-conscious hand up to touch the black leather choker wrapped snug against his throat and shushes Baekhyun as if everyone around him might somehow hear their conversation if he doesn’t pipe the hell down (not like they’d even care). " _Chiudi il becco_!"

“Bless you. Y'know, it’s always the cute, innocent-looking, quiet types who are into those sorts of things. You’re a dirty little freak, Jongdae Kim.”

“Okay, so I’m a freak,” Jongdae admits. Jongdae didn’t know where he came from, this needy horn-dog Jongdae, the Jongdae who couldn’t control himself, who had to be reeled in on a leash every single time Joonmyeon was in the same vicinity. "Stop kink-shaming me and tell me what to do about it.”

“Have you tried, I dunno, telling Joonmyeon about it? Like, actually asking him?”

“No. I could never do that.”

“Why not?”

“For some reason I don’t think, “hey, do you think you could slap me around a bit? Maybe throw me against a wall and choke me until I bruise while you fuck me?” would go over so well with someone who once cried for a full twenty minutes after he accidentally bumped into a little old man on the sidewalk and knocked him down. He’d probably think I’m crazy. Plus, I’m way too embarrassed to flat out ask him something like that. We’ve only been together for less than four months, three of which we’ve spent in different countries?”

“Right. So, how many times have you actually done the dirty? Excluding phone sex.”

“…Once.”

Baekhyun squawks like some kind of dying chicken. “Are you shitting me? You mean that night you swiped his V-Card this past summer in the back seat of your car was the only time?”

Baekhyun has a gift of making everything sound cheap. In reality, Jongdae and Joonmyeon's first time was perfect. Straight out of a sappy romance novel. It was the summer of high school graduation; they’d only been dating a few weeks (after nearly a year of mutual pining and stubbornness) and were at the peak of their honeymoon phase. The sunset their backdrop, they'd parked on the beach, made out in the backseat of Jongdae’s way too tiny mini cooper, Jongdae in Joonmyeon’s lap with Jeff Buckley crooning softly through the speakers. It had just happened. Though the environment the wasn’t ideal--it was too cramped and too hot--it was gentle and sweet, unlike all the other boys who’d fucked him, each one a carbon copy of the last, all brutish hands, merciless hips and boorish tongues, things Jongdae had admittedly grown accustom to and fond of, tossing him aside afterwards. Joonmyeon handled him like fine glass and Jongdae had never been treated like that before. It's not that he didn't like it; the sex was nice, he just wanted more.

_Selfish._

“Wait. He _told you_ about that?”

“ _Duh_ , he’s been my best friend since we were in diapers--he tells me everything. He texted me the morning after going on and on about how beautiful it was and how he thinks you’re The One, and--”

“…He said that?”

There’s silence and Jongdae can almost hear Baekhyun rolling his eyes on the other end.

“But that’s what I mean, like, you know that sex is way important to him and he’s super traditional about it. The moment has to be right. Whereas I wouldn’t particularly mind, oh I dunno--sitting on Joonmyeon Kim's dick every second of every day. Like. Perpetually.” _Uh-oh._ Horn-dog Jongdae is on the loose again. He pauses and swallows thickly at the thought, tries to push it into the farthest corner of his head but it's no use and now all he can think of is riding Joonmyeon for all he's worth. He has the most inconvenient boner right now. That's when he realizes Baekhyun has been hollering something at him and his boner dies faster than the first time he saw a vagina up close.

“--be _lieve_ you! I didn’t raise you to be a hoe. The only thing you need inside you is the word of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”

“Baekhyun," Jongdae whines. "Please!"

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Before you, he didn’t even _do_ dating.”

“That’s exactly why I need to be delicate with this. I don’t wanna mess things up and scare him away.”

Baekhyun hums his understanding.

In highschool, no one had ever seen Joonmyeon get angry (unless it was over human or animal rights or some other social or political injustice and even then, the anger was mild). Thus, his friends waged a pranking war in attempt to rile him up. One night at a Halloween party he was hosting while his parent's were away, Baekhyun had slipped vodka into Joonmyeon's orange juice when he’d ventured off to the bathroom. In no time, Joonmyeon, who was strictly straight-edge, was passed out on Baekhyun’s parents’ front lawn so hard he didn’t even flinch when Baekhyun and his Fuckboy Squad had stripped him down to his boxer-briefs and sprinkled kool-aid over virtually every inch of his sweaty skin in the form of misshapen penises. It was art. Once they’d sent pictures to all their friends, Baekhyun and Chanyeol, dressed in a gorilla suit and as Samira from The Grudge respectively proceeded to scare him shitless. Fuming, Joonmyeon had nearly punched Chanyeol in the face as a reflex and in that moment, even though Joonmyeon wasn't his at the time, Jongdae was more attracted to him than ever. But the alcohol had made Joonmyeon sick and after that, he didn't talk to any of his friends for almost two days. Hence, they all called it a truce and hadn’t pranked him again since.

Jongdae reminds Baekhyun of the incident and Baekhyun bursts out into a fit a of swinish, snort-filled laughter. Jongdae just frowns and makes a mental note to remind Joonmyeon that he should probably find newer, less asswipe-y friends.

“That just it,” Baekhyun says once he’s recovered enough breath.

“What is?”

“We need to prank him. It’s time to break the truce and get you laid, baby boy! And I have just the _perfect_ idea.”

 

* * *

Jongdae’s flight is delayed a whole hour due to weather but he’s not miffed, not even when he has to sit next to an elderly woman who falls asleep on his shoulder and drools all over his brand new cashmere Nordstrom cardigan. Truthfully, it’s kinda cute.

Though he’s tired, anticipation keeps his body thrumming for a good part of the nine-hour long flight and he can’t tell if it’s the turbulence or excitement that has his belly doing rapid somersaults. But when he does close his eyes, all he sees are the countless imagines his mind fashions of how Joonmyeon will react when they’re reunited.

 

* * *

As Jongdae departs his flight, his head spins, his limbs ache and his ass is asleep from sitting so long but his heart jumps at the familiarity of it all—the bright lights, crowds of grumpy people and pollution dusted skies are all so New York City. Jongdae had forgotten how much he'd missed this place.

Jongdae would much rather be greeted by Joonmyeon’s warm smile and embrace but instead it’s Baekhyun’s irksome mug that meets him, his totally-not-exclusive-boy ~~friend~~ toy, Kyungsoo Do skulking like death behind him at the pillar they’re standing beside, nose shoved in his black iPhone7, thumbs mashing at the screen (probably leaving hate comments on Instagram).

“Yo,” Baekhyun shouts, his voice sounding shriller in person than Jongdae ever remembers it. He waves the white pick-up sign he’s holding over his head which reads “Italian Twink”, in bright, red and green sharpie bubble-letters. There’s a miniature drawing of a slutty Luigi the Plumber with the face cut out and an old picture of Jongdae’s face in its place, moustache and hat doodled on and all. Obnoxious.

“Why does everyone think I’m a twink?” Jongdae questions once he's walked over, nose scrunched up. He’s genuinely curious. “I’m not a twink.” Without a word, Kyungsoo takes Jongdae’s duffel bag after looking up from his phone at him with an arched eyebrow. It’s the most expression Jongdae’s ever seen on his face. “ _Am_ I?”

Smirking, Baekhyun gives him a once-over, eyes lingering on his thighs, then claps him on the shoulder. He snorts in Jongdae's face. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sweetie.”

 

* * *

 The drive to Joonmyeon and Baekhyun’s shared apartment is short. It’s a dated building that Joonmyeon swears is haunted tucked away on a quiet side of upper Manhattan. When they arrive, Jongdae relishes in the scent that hits him at the door; it smells of Baekhyun’s cheap pumpkin-fragrenced potpourri but mostly it smells of Joonmyeon and Jongdae inhales so deeply he gets lightheaded.

“Alright, sluts,” Baekhyun starts once they've settled. “Here’s the plan: we’ll fill Joonmyeonnie's room with balloons and pop out from underneath them. The sound that balloons make when you rub your fingers against them drives him up the wall, so we’ll do that, too. It’s like nails on a chalkboard to the poor guy.”

The prank seems innocent enough but in hindsight, maybe this wasn’t the greatest of plans to go along with. With the recruitment of their friend Chanyeol, they blow the balloons up manually. They started at eight o’ clock and now it’s nearing nine thirty but Joonmyeon’s room isn’t even half-way covered. Jongdae is pretty sure Baekhyun and Kyungsoo snuck out to suck each other off in the bathroom sometime when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. And when Chaneyol isn’t busy texting his milf of a girlfriend, he’s bitching about the task at hand, huffing away precious breath that he could be using for the balloons.

Jongdae feels woozy again and the glimpse he gets of his reflection as he glances over at the mirror is enough to make anyone pass out; he’s baggy eyes, puffy lips, flushed cheeks and a greasy forehead. He looks more like something out of _The Walking Dead_ than a cute, pleasant surprise for his boyfriend. He lets out a groan and that settles it; he would make one convincing-ass walker (and honestly, he wouldn't mind getting ripped apart by Glenn Rhee)***.

Several minutes later, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo meander back into the room, looking content and effervescent, Baekhyun’s hands grabbing shamelessly at Kyungsoo’s ass. The sound of keys jangling in the lock reverbs in the hall right outside the front door before Jongdae can yell at them.

The room goes quiet.

_Shit._

“There’s no _way_ he’s back already,” Chanyeol mouths.

The creek of the door opening and the patter of footsteps is all the confirmation they need. Everyone scatters like ants in a rainstorm to conceal themselves under the balloons or behind pieces of furniture.

A clueless Joonmyeon pads into the room and each person but Jongdae pops out from their hiding spots. It makes Joonmyeon jump a bit, looking more like a cute puzzled puppy than upset in any way, eyes owlish.

“What… _is_ this?” he asks.

“Surprise?” Baekhyun says. He rubs his palms at a balloon over and over so that it squeaks annoyingly. If it irritates Joonmyeon, he doesn’t have time to react because Jongdae sidles out of the sea of balloons too soon, his feet moving on their own accord.

Baekhyun gives Jongdae a look but Jongdae ignores it.

The dopiest grin Jongdae’s ever seen spreads across Joonmyeon’s mouth. “D-Dae?”

“Ciao!” Jongdae’s voice is croaky from blowing up balloons; he rubs at his throat and beams at his boyfriend.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Joonmyeon asks, voice lilting with exitement. He steps through the balloon-ocean and closer to Jongdae in bumbling strides.

The two are inches away from each other now and Jongdae has to force himself to meet Joonmyeon’s eyes. They’re as bright and pretty as galaxies and Jongdae forgets the English language for a second. “I thought I’d surprise you? Did it work?”

“Heck yeah,” Joonmyeon says, catching a balloon in his hands and shoving it under his shirt. It makes him look four months pregnant and Jongdae tries to keep a straight face but snorts when Joonmyeon starts to rub at his pseudo baby bump as he dances around Jongdae. Jongdae’s giggles turn into yelps when Joonmyeon envelops him in his embrace and squeezes their bodies together until the balloon pops between them. The impact sends them both to the ground in a bout of laughter and Joonmyeon smooths chilled lips over Jongdae’s swollen ones, licks playfully into his mouth. Joonmyeon tastes faintly of soy and mirth and Jongdae doesn’t know if it’s because he’s just spent the last hour blowing up balloons or the fact that Joonmyeon weighs a metric fuckton but it feels like his lungs are on fire. He tries hard to catch his breath.

“You’re not mad?” Jongdae asks once he finds a gulp of air.

“No. Why would I be?”

“Because of all the balloons and the annoying squeaking sounds. Because of the surprise.”

“Are you kidding? You’re here. Best surprise ever.”

The prank was a fail but for some reason, Jongdae can breathe steadily again. He brings Joonmyeon in for another kiss. And then another.

 

* * *

While the other boys have sprawled out on the living room floor in front of the TV between a bag of pretzels, fighting over who gets the PS4 controller next, Jongdae and Joonmyeon are cuddled up on the couch. They're in their own world, Joonmyeon absently fiddling with Jongdae’s fingers and Jongdae thinks he  would trade bruising his thumbs and raising his cortisol levels playing _Bloodborne_ for curling up in Joonmyeon’s lap any day. They stay that way for what feels like minutes but turns out to be an hour and don’t realize their friends are leaving until they're being heckled from the door.

“ _Hellooo,_ are you two even listening to me?” Baekhyun barks. "What a pair of old queens."

"Sorry," Joonmyeon chuckles as Jongdae climbs out of his lap.

“Anyways, like I was saying--we’re off to meet up with Jongin at the opening of his boyfriend Yixing’s gay club, the one called 'ANUStonishing Lay' or something equally as ridiculous,” Baekhyun explains. “You lovebirds coming or what?”

“No, it’s okay,” Joonmyeon tells him. “Jongdae and I wanna catch up, just the two of us.”

At that, Baekhyun boos. “That’s code for, ‘we’re gonna spend the whole night having _unbelievably_ vanilla sex and talking about feelings because if we have too much fun our ass-cheeks break out in hives’”. He pretends to gag. “You’re coming, though, right, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol looks down at his watch. “Nah. Dara said she’d pick me up at the café down the street in a few minutes. We’re seeing a play later.”

“A play? How gay. Ugh, couples are gross. Suit yourselves.” He grabs Kyungsoo’s arm and they head for the door. “C’mon, Soo. Let’s go get laid by some interesting strangers.”

Following, Chanyeol scoffs. “But aren’t you two a couple? I mean, you argue like one. You sure as hell suck each other off like one.”

Even with the door closed now, Jongdae and Joonmyeon can still hear Baekhyun howl at Chanyeol with all the bite of an disgruntled kitten. “Fight me, you dickless giraffe!”

 

* * *

Jongdae has never understood vegans or their love of kale and mashed up meat-shaped soy products (he'd rather shove an entire cow up his ass?), but Joonmyeon is insisting on making a meatless, dairy-free meal for him instead of ordering the Chinese food he'd oh-so craved and there’s no way Jongdae can say no to his pouty face or the way his ass looks in an apron. The vegan pad Thai that’s served to him smells palatable; Jongdae scarfs it down in record time and Joonmyeon looks smug as hell when Jongdae reluctantly praises his efforts.

Jongdae decides to save the gifts until after dessert which happens to be some sort of no-bake dairy-less chocolate cake Joonmyeon had made the night before. Once they’re done cleaning up the kitchen, Joonmyeon opens the hemp porkpie hat and scarf and seems delighted by them, but then Jongdae pulls out the expensive cruelty-free Italian cologne he'd bought weeks before the visit was even planned and Joonmyeon almost looks guilty. Jongdae slaps him blithely on the thigh and when he tells Joonmyeon to stop looking so pitiful, Joonmyeon pulls him into a bruising hug, babbling his thank-yous and Jongdae is certain he's dating the World's Biggest Sap.

They build an impressive makeshift fort out of blankets, of which there are plenty, old ones that Joonmyeon knitted himself. It’s an ugly sight but the two hit the lights and crawl in, equipped with comics and Joonmyeon's groovy blue lava lamp like two kids on a camping trip.

Joonmyeon massages the kinks out of Jongdae’s back and neck even though jet-lag is getting to Jongdae and Joonmyeon is just as tired from his school and work schedules, they talk and laugh nonstop like two friends who haven’t spoken in months though they talk every day. Joonmyeon’s voice in person, unaltered by bad wifi connections, is a silky song in his ears and Jongdae basks in the sound of it.

Eventually though, it's a bit hard to concentrate and Jongdae gets lost in the way Joonmyeon's lips move to form words. He’d missed those lips. Against his neck and his thighs and his— _shit_. There’s this mighty twitch in his cock that propels him forward with all the grace of a bat in daylight and before he knows it he’s leaning in, pasting his lips onto Joonmyeon’s face without much aim, leaving a ravenous open mouthed kiss to the side of his lips and cutting off whatever Joonmyeon was saying about solar power.

“Sorry,” Jongdae peeps. Joonmyeon is looking at him like he’d just admitted to never reading a single book in the  _Harry Potter series_. “I…got distracted?”

“It’s not like I mind. You just caught me off guard a bit, is all.” Joonmyeon smiles widely and it’s like being hit dead on by a car's high beam lights after walking on a deserted highway for miles.

It grosses Jongdae out a bit (or like, a lot) but simultaneously, it’s bliss how high-school-teen-romcom this all is, the way Joonmyeon brushes his fingers against Jongdae’s cheek, soothing the skin there until Jongdae’s insides are putty, the tentative way they kiss until it’s not so tentative anymore, until it’s toppled bodies, hands skittering under shirts, sloppy mouths against skin and rushed frotting against jean clad hips for friction. It still feels so new, so right, so _good_.

Once they resurface for air, Joonmyeon cups Jongdae’s face in both hands and looks him in the eyes, expression stoic, pensive. He stares for an eternity and Jongdae’s skin feels crackled, stripped bare.

“W-what is it?” Jongdae asks, heart beating triple time. He's laying directly on top of Joonmyeon; he has to feel it too.

"I should call you Google, 'cause you have everything I'm looking for."

Jongdae feels his body go rigid and his face blanch. Left at a loss for words, he glares daggers at his boyfriend who is absolutely giddy with laughter beneath him.

"If you were a chicken you'd be im _pec_ cable," Joonmyeon burbles, mushing Jongdae's cheeks together. "You're the _Obi-Wan_ for me." Jongdae is going to pirouette off of a fucking skyscraper. "Are you a Weeping Angel? 'Cause I can’t take my eyes off you."

"Aw, why?!" Jongdae screeches. He slaps Joonmyeon's hands away from his face and flicks him across the forehead harder than he'd meant to. It's a reflex. "Shut up. You're not funny! Don't people die right after seeing those things, anyway? What are you even saying?!" He buries his face in Joonmyeon's chest and contemplates hiding there forever.

"Wow, you mean you were actually _paying attention_  that time i made you binge-watch Doctor Who with me?"

"I'm not talking to you anymore."

“Forreal though," Joonmyeon says through a chuckle and tucks his hand under Jongdae's chin, forces him to meet his eyes again. "You're so beautiful. _Sei la persona piu bella che abbia mai visto_.”

Warmth blooms up Jongdae's neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He kisses Joonmyeon again to shut him the hell up because that is the dumbest thing Joonmyeon Kim has ever said in the history of Dumb Things Said By Joonmyeon Kim (and that's saying a lot).

Dexterous hands work open jeans and in no time, Jongdae’s got Joonmyeon’s cock out. Maybe Jongdae's a little too over-eager because it’s been so _so_ long since he's done this but he's in between Joonmyeon’s legs, taking him into his mouth and bobbing his head with fervency like it's the only thing he knows, never once breaking Joonmyeon's gaze.

He’d forgotten how much he liked it--sucking dick. He loves everything about the act--from the way it tastes to the way it makes his throat feel, but nothing beats the satisfaction of Joonmyeon's reactions; he's all jittery thighs and low, sexy moans and Jongdae can't get enough.

Joonmyeon warns he’s close, twists a gentle hand in Jongdae’s mussed hair and as Jongdae pulls off to watch, savors the feel off cum spurting against his face and neck, he tries not to imagine Joonmyeon pulling his hair hard enough to make Jongdae finish in his pants.

“Damn, we ruined our fort,” Jongdae notes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s not even a fort anymore; now it’s more like…a smelly cum cavern.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Kyungsoo calls Baekhyun’s bumhole.”

They both crack up at the jibe.

“It doesn’t help that your feet smell like nacho cheese,” Joonmyeon quips through sniggers.

"You little shit.” Jongdae lunges for Joonmyeon’s neck. Joonmyeon fails to fight him off and they’re both sent tumbling backward.

“No, no, but it’s like, a robust smell. I like it.”

Jongdae tickles Joonmyeon’s sides and destroying the fort in the process, Joonmyeon kicks and flails underneath his relentless attack. His fingers move beneath Joonmyeon's Metallica hoodie to tease his bare skin, limbs stretched.

It happens in slow motion; Jongdae tries to reach forward to stop it, but he’s not fast enough. With a loud crash against the hard wood flooring, not one but three of Joonmyoen’s hand-made tiny terrariums in light bulbs fall off his coffee table, the glass shattering and the contents of each scattering everywhere. Jongdae’s eyes widen at the horror. He can’t bring himself to look at Joonmyeon for a drawn-out moment and when he finally does, Joonmyeon’s frozen, his hands over his mouth in shock.

“Oh, no,” Joonmyeon says as he goes to stand up. Mid-movement, he makes a choked sound at the back of his throat and the color drains from his face, tears beginning to bead at the corner of his eyes. That’s when Jongdae realizes he's cut his foot on a shard of glass.

“I’m bleeding,” Joonmyeon says calmly but he looks like he's going to pass out any minute.

Jongdae darts to the bathroom for the first aid kit. He loses his footing while rounding the corner and busts ass full force in the corridor and at this rate, they’ll both need a trip to the hospital.

 

* * *

The smell of bacon and eggs lures Jongdae from dreamland and he's disoriented as to where he is for a bit; Joonmyeon doesn’t keep either of those things in his fridge normally. Young The Giant’s _Islands_ is on repeat--he’s sure of it because he swears he’d heard it in his sleep and there’s an ethereal, lambent bluish light flooding in through the curtains that gives him the briefest sense he may still be dreaming of the ocean. He rubs at his eyes, retrieves his glasses from the night stand and stretches, realizing then that Joonmyeon must have moved him while he was slumbering because he’s tucked under the duvet, snug as a caterpiller in its cocoon.

“Ah, finally you’re up,” Joonmyeon greets, popping his head out from the kitchen. “I started to think you were dead. You’re such a sound sleeper it’s worrisome.” He shoves a plate of hot food under Jongdae’s nose. “Breakfast,” he singsongs. "And ah," he holds up the flower crown made of daisies that had been hanging on his wrist like a bracelet and sets it on Jongdae's head. "I made you this, too."

Turns out Joonmyeon ran to the grocery store first thing to pick up the bacon and eggs while Jongdae was still asleep, despite his injured foot. The bacon (turkey) is a little burnt and the eggs (organic) are scrambled, the only way Jongdae will eat them. His toast (multigrain) is sliced into fours, sans crust or jam or marmalade or butter because Jongdae is like a child in that way; he hates all those things.

“You didn’t have to do this.” There’s an entire sea of admiration laving against his chest, threatening to drown him, relentless. His eyes flicker to Joonmyeon’s. He doesn’t understand how anyone ever looks away from them.

“Yeah, I did. You’re my guest and I wanted to.”

“Right. Thanks. And here my lazy ass would have probably just run to Mcdonalds the last minute before meeting up with you later on.”

“My _god_ , no. Do you know what's _in_ their chicken nuggets? They’re full of--”

“I don’t want to know,” Jongdae whines, covering his ears with his sweater paws in horror.

Joonmyeon playfully slaps Jongdae’s hands away from his ears. "So cute," he coos.

“So, Baekhyun never came home last night, huh?” Jongdae asks, shoveling a forkful of eggs down his throat.

“No. Jongin sent me snaps from the party. There was one that looked like Kyungsoo putting Baekhyun in a not-so-playful headlock but the next one was of them making out? So my bets say they went to Kyungsoo's to have strange, kinky hate-sex.”

The look on Joonmyeon's face is that of a man thoroughly disgusted and Jongdae can't decide if it was caused by the image of his friends fucking or the idea of kinky sex in general, but it has him choking on a piece of bacon and he's sweating from a coughing fit. Joonmyeon is too concerned to notice Jongdae's blushing and for that, Jongdae is thankful. Clearing his throat, Jongdae regains his poise. “I s-ee," he says, letting Joonmyeon soothe a hand down his back. "Are you holding up okay, though? I still feel so bad about last night…”

“I've taken some herbal pain remedies that should do the trick. Don’t sweat it, I barely know it’s there anymore,” he gloats, forever sanguine. He throws his arm over Jongdae’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here. I still can’t believe I have you all to myself for an entire weekend.”

Joonmyeon pulls Jongdae into a hug and kisses him on the cheek. His eyes are crescents as he smiles and warmth swaddles Jongdae’s heart. Gently, Joonmyeon takes Jongdae's face into his hands and pecks him chaste on the lips, then goes to set the food on the nightstand and although Jongdae just finished a bite of bacon Joonmyeon kisses him, open mouthed, sensual and deep. And Jongdae’s head is spinning because Joonmyeon rarely makes the first move; it’s always the other way around and how is he already this hard?

“Cheater,” Jongdae sighs when they part, hands wandering underneath Joonmyeon's shirt. “How low of you; kissing me like that just to get a sneaky taste of meat.”

Joonmyeon chuckles against Jongdae’s mouth, a low rumble in his throat. It’s the hottest thing Jongdae’s ever heard and his gut is in fucking flames. He fears he may melt into the mattress through the floorboards and straight to hell but to be honest, it might be for the best because when Joonmyeon looks at him there's a wicked smirk on his spit-slick lips, mischief dancing in his eyes and Jongdae has a need to be pinned underneath him forever.

Hurriedly, Jongdae pulls Joonmyeon's shirt over his head to reveal a tight chest, abs and glowy skin, and maneuvers his body so he's lying beneath him. Anticipation thrashes against Jongdae's chest as he appreciates the view, runs a hand up the hard plane of Joonmyeon's abdomen toward his chest, over the tribal tattoo piece inscribed on his pec, then down the connected unfinished sleeve on his arm. The contact leaves his skin buzzing. Electric. Threading his fingers through Joonmyeon's hair, Jongdae pulls him down to crush their lips together again.

Their bodies flush, Jongdae grinds his hips against Joonmyeon's, their clothed erections rubbing together almost painfully. The act elicits an airy moan from Joonmyeon that sounds way too pretty for what Jongdae has in mind to do to him.

“I...I never really got to repay you,” Joonmyeon whispers. “For last night." He peers into Jongdae’s eyes like open windows. “Can I touch you?” he asks, and it isn't fair; he's such a fucking gentleman. There’s this desperation inside Jongdae to tell Joonmyeon that he never needs to ask permission, that from the moment he laid eyes on him, Jongdae was his to own. And Jongdae has to bite his tongue hard for a moment to suppress horn-dog Jongdae, to suppress the urge to admit that he wants to be fucked senseless into Joonmyeon's ugly new headboard.

"Shit, yes," Jongdae slurs instead and hopes it doesn't sound too slutty.

Without haste, Joonmyeon traces the outline of Jongdae’s dick through his pajama bottoms, deliberate and appreciative. Jongdae can't get rid of his pants quicker.

There are a million and one things Jongdae loves about Joonmyeon’s fingers. They're perfectly long and wide and rough from playing guitar, all too skilled; he’s more than certain he could come like this--just from Joonmyeon palming him through his boxers. But then Joonmyeon dips his fingers under the elastic and his warm skin grazes the tip of Jongdae's leaking cockhead before pulling his length out and tugging and _oh_. Jongdae lets out a whine that’s too embarrassing to his own ears. Joonmyeon's thumb presses at the slit, gathering precum and he works his wrist into a steady flicking motion. He starts to speed up; Jongdae grips on to his flexing bicep for purchase and when it becomes too much too fast, he grabs his wrist, puts Joonmyeon’s fingers in his mouth, likes the taste of his own precum. Jongdae sucks at Joonmyeon's fingers, gets them as wet with saliva as he can and pushes his boxers down, spreads his legs wide and guides Joonmyeon’s digits to his entrance.

“Your fingers--inside. Please.” His voice comes out as a shaky mess and he’s drooling from the exhilaration and effort but there's no time to care.

There’s a vein of worry on Joonmyeon’s face that wilts and blooms into something anamalistic when Jongdae grinds down against his fingers with a whimper. He nods and moves to go presumably fetch lube, but Jongdae catches his arm and stops him.

“No need,” Jongdae breathes. “I,” he pauses and bites his lip. “I...thought about you in the bathroom earlier this morning while you were still asleep.”

Realization dusts soft pink against Joonmyeon’s cheeks and he fumbles back on top of Jongdae, brow furrowed, a man on a mission. Jongdae wonders how a single person manages to be this simultaneously cute and hot. Careful not to hurt Jongdae, he inserts one finger to the knuckle inside of his body, then two at once and doesn’t hesitate to work Jongdae open. Jongdae’s only seen this side of Joonmyeon in his dreams before; he wonders if it’s from the frustration of being away from each other for too long, all that time apart that's got Joonmyeon fighting the need to blink, eyes roaming Jongdae's tense form like he's one of the ancient Roman ruins he's so in love with. And maybe Jongdae should take advantage and just tell him everything, about his kinks, about how his heart feels too big for his rib cage whenever Joonmyeon so much as brushes up against him. The thought bubbles up in his throat and sits heavy on his tongue. _No. Don't ruin the fucking moment._ Besides, ignoring his feelings is a routine and he's good at. Jongdae remains focused on what he's good at and rides Joonmyeon's fingers in hopes that he's getting the point across, to let Joonmyeon know that he needs this and much more from him.

Joonmyeon’s mouth falls open in a silent moan, free hand rubbing at his dick through his pants in time with each lewd squelch of his fingers thrusting in and out of Jongdae's ass and _holy fuck._ Jongdae would offer to help him out if he wasn’t so occupied by the sight, wasn’t so embarrassingly close though he hasn’t even touched himself yet. He distracts himself by parting his legs as far as they'll go, drawing his knees up toward his chest, and pulls Joonmyeon close. Kissing him filthy, he pulls lightly at Joonmyeon's lip piercing with his teeth and nearly cries when Joonmyeon picks up the pace as he attaches his lips to the underside of Jongdae's jaw.

There’s an uncoiling in his gut and Jongdae digs his nails into Joonmyeon’s shoulder, comes with a cry of Joonmyeon's name. Through the sound of their combined heavy breathing, Jongdae could have sworn he'd heard Joonmyeon whisper something that sounded dangerously close to “I love you” in Italian against the shell of his ear. Jongdae’s heart jumps so high he sees double. He tries not to freak out.

 What should he do? It’s too late to say it back now. What if Jongdae was just hearing things in his fucked out, post-orgasm state? Guilt burns up Jongdae's throat, acidic. “Don’t you, um. Have to get to work now?” he asks.

Slowly, Joonmyeon sits up. “Ah, right. Yeah, I better take a quick shower before I’m late and my boss cuts off my head.”

Jongdae doesn’t remember that Baekhyun put hot pink hair dye in Joonmyeon's shampoo bottle yesterday until it's too late, until the sound of something hitting the floor followed by a distressed cry yanks him out of his trance. A wet Joonmyeon dashes out of the bathroom, sans-towel, half-hard dick wobbling as he moves, blonde hair now tinged pink, stains marring pristine skin, all over his forehead, neck and hands. It looks like he tried to finger paint with tampons and Jongdae wants to laugh but he is too busy craving Death.

“This was Baekhyun’s doing, wasn’t it?” Joonmyeon asks, shocked.

Jongdae can barely form a coherent sentence after Joonmyeon’s confession; he can't find his tongue so he just shrugs. He anticipates a reaction.

Joonmyeon pauses for a second, and then the tension in his shoulders dissipates and he puts a pensive finger to his lip. “…What a great prank.”

Relief and disenchantment flow through Jongdae at once. “Y-you’re not angry?”

“No, I wish I’d thought of this!” Joonmyeon explains, gleeful. “I’ve wanted to dye my hair pink for a really, really long time now, I just wish he'd have used food dye instead of actual hair dye. But it looks good.” And with that, he strolls back into the bathroom.

Jongdae sits and stares at the wall in utter disbelief the entire time Joonmyeon showers.

 

(Soon after, Joonmyeon discovers the entirety of his sock collection in the freezer, but doesn't have time to react because he's fifteen minutes late for work. Jongdae has no idea when Baekhyun even had the time for that one.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you got through that mess, wow i applaud you  
> where the fuck is this going, you ask? your guess is as good as mine lmao  
> title taken from the fall out boy song of the same name [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtZpP1QIHSU)  
> other mentioned music: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMLiFpecgVg), [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaxYYtwGbb4), [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29R4Ph4qqNc)  
> italian translations:  
> mi piace i'talia moltissimo---> i love italy a lot  
> devo andare---> i have to go  
> chiudi il becco----> shut up  
> sei la persona piu bella che abbia mai visto---> you're the most beautiful person i've ever seen???? idk if this is even right tbh my italian is shabby af  
> this is unbeta'd so if anyone wants to point out any errors pls feel free to do so i need the constructive criticism  
> also literally no one spells joonmyun like i do as jOONmyEON but idk i like it like that  
> [suchen](https://farm1.staticflickr.com/640/22720462057_df0d0de191_b.jpg) [are](https://66.media.tumblr.com/c983641bff3df38c68ce1f373982df7a/tumblr_nt8wbauBYT1u964tfo1_500.gif) [so](http://67.media.tumblr.com/70d663bf83b14ebf4276d7f5058bdf65/tumblr_o3zcl5hCCf1sxkftdo2_400.gif) [cute](http://66.media.tumblr.com/27fc08ad399c293482945ead705de62d/tumblr_nxijtxATPg1qjv087o5_400.gif) [it](http://66.media.tumblr.com/1434f24562b289e0306621ca6f3353af/tumblr_nxk9txP2qv1qjv087o1_250.gif) [pains](http://68.media.tumblr.com/f4508c11f7abd629e3c6c4196fde2775/tumblr_o4c49hnxSH1rrtd4ho4_500.jpg) [me](http://kingjunmyeonn.tumblr.com/image/137529833967)  
> [*d.o's lil 'ow ow ow' bit from first love.mp3*](http://66.media.tumblr.com/11e137d567041c04a4ef57ec4dda9ff2/tumblr_odi2h56xCm1qjv087o1_400.gif)  
> 


	2. Papi Pacify

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me you're the one that i can call  
> even if you choke [(x)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OydK91JjFOw)

“I can never tell if a vegan is hungry, snobby or just plagued with a case of the runs from all the fucking fiber they eat, but they all look like this.” Baekhyun sucks in his cheeks and crosses his eyes like some sort of inebriated fish and Jongdae wants to curl up and die. They’re standing in line at “Vegan Warriors”, the gluten-free, dairy-less bakery where Joonmyeon works as a pastry chef and Jongdae realized a while ago that it’s impossible to take Baekhyun anywhere without the other boy embarrassing him in one way or another.

With a finger to his lips, Jongdae shushes Baekhyun, and when that doesn’t work, he socks him in the arm which only serves to make him yowl at the top of his lungs and draw further attention.

Jongdae tries to ignore the cutting glares they both receive from the pair of skinny blonde women standing at the counter in front of them.

Baekhyun _does_ have a point.

 

* * *

 

 

After they’ve received their orders (and Jongdae pries Baekhyun’s talons out of the handsome, straight-faced barista whose name tag reads ‘Sehun’), Jongdae and Baekhyun locate seats in a cozy booth by the window. Joonmyeon joins them a few minutes later, a tall cup of green tea in hand and a smile spread on his pink lips. His pink hair is tied back in a messy little pony tail and he's still wearing his apron, faux flour dusting the front, flecks of it splattered against his cheek and nose and _gosh_ he's adorable.

“Did you guys meet Sehun?” Joonmyeon asks. He removes his apron before sliding into the spot next to Jongdae, arm instinctively wrapping around his boyfriend’s shoulders and holding him close. Jongdae's heart is thundering against his chest and for reasons undisclosed, every single bit of this morning's events plastered vividly against the back of his eyelids.

“Did we," Baekhyun says with a cheeky grin. He fans himself with a napkin like he’s an (ugly) maiden seconds away from passing out. "He’s hot as _shit_. Where have you been hiding him from me all this time?”

Joonmyeon grimaces. “He’s new. And _straight_.”

“ _Right_ ,” Baekhyun deadpans. “So then, why did he give me his number?”

“You’re lying!”

Baekhyun flashes the evidence--a shiny new contact in his phone under the name "Sehun-g Oooh" (followed by far too many eggplant and water squirt emojis). Both Joonmyeon and Jongdae wring their necks around to look back at Sehun who is giving Baekhyun major heart eyes from behind the register. Baekhyun may be greasy but damn is he quick.

"He said he likes to party so I'm gonna see if he wants to come tonight. In more ways than one. Definitely more times than once."

Joonmyeon tuts. "You wouldn't."

"I _would_. But hey, worry less about where my dick goes and more about your face, coke whore."

Joonmyeon looks perplexed, nose scrunched up cutely. Jongdae giggles at him.

"There's flour on your cheek," Jongdae notes. He gently brushes it off with a thumb, finds himself frozen for a second, eyes flickering from Joonmyeon's soft lips to the contrast of his sharp jaw line.

“Thanks,” Joonmyeon sing songs. “How's the muffin?” he asks, looking down at Jongdae’s half eaten, dairy-less sweet.

“ _So_ good. Did you make these?”

“Mmhm. Can I have a taste?” Hand at the curve of Jongdae's neck, Joonmyeon leans in closer, sending pin pricks down Jongdae's spine; he’s a hypersensitive mess. Jongdae breaks off a piece of his muffin to feed it to Joonmyeon, but the older boy shakes his head.

“I meant of you.”

Jongdae's stomach flips. It actually _flips_ because of this Corn Ball. He whacks Joonmyeon on the shoulder and struggles with maintaining a nonchalant façade; his lips are trembling from holding back a smile. Eventually, he gives in to it and lets Joonmyeon kiss him on the side of the mouth and they're both giggling against each other, the rumble of Joonmyeon's laughter soothing every inch of tension in Jongdae’s body.

“Gross,” Baekhyun spurns.  “I think I speak for every miserable vegan in here when I say I hate the very sight of both of you meatheads right now.”

“You’re just jealous you have no one to kiss,” Jongdae teases.

“There are plenty of people willing to kiss me, thank you very much.”

“But the one you really wish you were kissing right now? Where is he?” Joonmyeon asks, picking off a piece of Jongdae’s muffin.

Baekhyun frowns. “You mean your dad?”

“What? No, I mean Kyungsoo. You know, the kid who looks like an angry rock but with thicker eyebrows and less manners.”

“Hell if I know. Probably somewhere trying to suck himself off.”

The mental image makes Jongdae squirm. It’s entirely too clear.

“Joonmyeon,” comes a rumbling voice, starling them all. Joonmyeon’s boss Minseok is soon looming over them, arms crossed in authority. He’s a tiny man with huge eye bags and even huger biceps. “You’re still on the clock.”

“Sorry, sir,” Joonmyeon peeps, head hung low in request for forgiveness. “Ah,” he says, straightening. “This is my boyfriend, Jongdae.”

Minseok makes a sound of awe, a high pitched noise that causes his previous layer of intimidation to crumble at once. He extends his hand for Jongdae to shake. “I thought he’d made you up. Good to know you’re actually real and as cute as Joonmyeonnie here has said.”

At a loss for words, Jongdae laughs and casts a look at Joonmyeon who is positively glowing.

 “If you’re not in the back in five minutes, you’re fired.” Minseok intones with a smile and then traipses into the back room.

“Right,” sighs Joonmyeon. “On that note, I should head back. See you in a little while, babe." He stands to put his apron back on but before he can do so, Jongdae tugs at his sleeve and gets up to hug him tightly. He doesn't know why he feels so needy, sad even, entire body soaked in the sensation; Joonmyeon's shift ends in less than two hours but he holds onto the other boy like he needs to board his flight back to Rome any minute. He buries his face in Joonmyeon’s neck.

“You two make me sick,” Baekhyun announces. “Sick to death!"

Joonmyeon pecks Jongdae on the forehead, grin like sunshine before he retreats to his post. Jongdae slumps back into the booth with a moan.

Baekhyun scoffs. "Dude. You're literally ten inches up each other’s asses. Why don’t you just move back from Rome and take up residence in Myeon’s ass? I bet when he finishes inside you he clicks his heels together and starts chanting, ‘there’s no place like home! There’s no place like home!’”

Jongdae goes to kick Baekhyun in the shin under the table but he misses and hurts his own foot in the process. He tries not to wince from the sting but Baekhyun can smell pain just as well as fear and calls him out on it anyway.

“So,” Jongdae begins. “Turns out I’m not very good at this whole pranking thing. The food coloring trick sort of backfired. Now I’m just even more frustrated. He looks _fucking hot_ with pink hair.”

Baekhyun hums exaggeratedly in agreement. “You can say that again. What exactly _did_ you guys get up to last night?” Baekhyun’s wiggling his eyebrows and Jongdae wishes he had a razor.

“Nothing, really. We were having this tickle fight but then I accidently broke a few of his tiny terrariums in light bulbs?”

“Oh thank _god_. I hated those atrocious eyesores. Like. Who besides literal serial killers spends hours making those things, really? The nerd _wonders_ why he never got laid before you two started dating.”

“Shut up. He worked really hard on them, alright? I felt so bad. Even worse when he cut his foot on a stray shard of glass afterwards. It was terrible.”

Baekhyun covers his mouth in artificial shock but Jongdae can see his dimples poking out in amusement. “Is that why he was limping? I thought it was because he finally drilled you like the skank you are and you returned the favor, or something. How anticlimactic. Not to mention, like, totally unsexy.”

Jongdae hides his pout in his scarf and covers his eyes with the lip of his snapback, hoping it might make him invisible because he has an immense desire to vanish right now.

“Do you need still need prank ideas?” Baekhyun asks.

Jongdae nods. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I dunno. You could saran wrap his fixed-gear. I’ve always hated that thing, too. Ooh—or you could slip meat into his salad. He hasn’t had it in over half a decade; it would probably fuck with his digestive system big time.” Baekhyun chortles, hugging his tummy like an evil Santa. “Maybe even make him shit his pants.”

Frowning, Jongdae shakes his head. “Well, that’s just mean. I don’t want to lie to him anymore. Or hurt him. Again.”

“It’s not mean if it’s vegans you’re lying to. You'd be doing the world a service.”

Jongdae whines. “Please. Seriously. Help me. I’m desperate!”

“Alright, alright,” Baekhyun says, waving Jongdae off with a hand. “I’ll come up with something less brutal by the time Kyungsoo’s party rolls around. Slightly less brutal. Maybe.”

“But Myeon isn’t even sure if we’re actually going to Kyungsoo’s--”

“Oh, you guys are coming. In the meantime, you relax. We’ll turn that gentle sheep of yours into a big bad wolf in no time, just you wait!” Jongdae bores a hole in the back of Baekhyun’s head as he gets up and heads out the door. Before Baekhyun leaves, he blows a kiss and sends it Jongdae’s way. Jongdae dodges it like he’s just flung a booger at him. “ _Ciao Bello_!”

 

* * *

 

 Once his shift ends, Joonmyeon discovers a huge hole in his bicycle tire. It seems it’s been punctured on purpose; there’s no way they’re getting anywhere on it in this state and Baekhyun has gone too far. To Jongdae’s chagrin, Joonmyeon isn’t affected by it in the slightest.

“Let’s just call an Uber,” he suggests, shrugging it off. Jongdae is sure he’s going to develop premature wrinkles from how hard he frowns.

Joonmyeon grabs Jongdae’s hand, squeezing lightly. His eyes are sparkling despite the predicament. “I was thinking Rockefeller Center?”

* * *

 

 As they reach their destination, the sun begins to sink beneath the horizon, an array of pinks and purples illuminating the sky. They waste no time making their way to the lower level skating rink and Jongdae marvels at the statue of Prometheus in all its enormous glory. The Christmas tree is already brightly lit even though Christmas is still a couple of months away, but Jongdae feels the spirit of the holiday, everyone around them smiling and laughing, families frolicking with their young children, happy couples with sparkles in their eyes. Jongdae is imbued with it all.

Jongdae has never been coordinated enough to learn how to skate, has neither the affinity nor the patience for it. But Joonmyeon is proficient in the skill, guides him through it, holds his hand until he gets the hang of it (which is barely). There are little girls half Jongdae’s size outshining him, whirling around him in showy, graceful effects and teasing him when he braces himself so not to collide with them as they zigzag in front of him, poking their tongues out in mockery. The one with pigtails doubles over in laughter when he stumbles and flails like some sort of headless chicken. Joonmyeon is no better than the children; he giggles at Jongdae when he loses his footing and falls flat on his ass. Weak to Jongdae’s whining, Joonmyeon shortly thereafter pulls his boyfriend up by the arms with a smile and seeks forgiveness by pressing his lips to Jongdae’s pout.

It feels nice to be amongst all the other couples; tonight pairs of lovers of various ages and backgrounds are here, carefree and romancing it up to the fullest.

In Italy, Jongdae had felt more like a single man, a dispassionate loner. But his heart swells with pride tonight. It’s silly and corny that he’s so blissful but he truly hasn’t been this excited in ages.

They skate for hours, until Joonmyeon’s legs look about ready to snap off and Jongdae’s toes are numb. They decide it’s time to quit once Jongdae’s stomach rumbles audibly and depart the ice to go grab a bite to eat.

Maybe it’s the shape of his vegan hotdog and the cute, sort of pathetic manner in which Joonmyeon struggles to fit his tiny lips around it that’s got Jongdae’s mind racing to impious places. The corners of his mouth are just about to spilt his entire face open from smiling; an idea saturates his mind and it’s too nice to pass up. He informs Joonmyeon that he has to use the restroom, tries to convey that he wants Joonmyeon to accompany him without spelling it out. But Joonmyeon doesn’t register the implications of his raised eyebrows and Jongdae has to physically drag him along.

Joonmyeon follows silently. He sounds like a dying bird when Jongdae corners him against a stall wall, zips his jeans open and sinks to his knees in front of him.

“W-what are you doing?” Joonmyeon stutters.

Jongdae looks up at him through thick lashes, bats them rapidly in feigned innocence. “Sucking you off?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Joonmyeon suggest but his labored breathing betrays him. The way he wriggles his hips where they’re held under Jongdae’s grip is about the cutest thing Jongdae’s ever witnessed. “Don’t you think it’s a little stereotypical? Not to mention the glaring fact that anyone could walk in at any given moment and report us. We could get arrested for public indecency.”

Jongdae justs his bottom lip out, pulls Joonmyeon’s half hard cock out of the front of his boxers. “Trust me,” he says, voice silky. “I won’t be that long.” With disregard for whatever incomprehensible thing Joonmyeon chastises him with, Jongdae puts his mouth on Joonmyoen’s cock, presses a kiss to the side, dulcifies the needy whine in the back of Joonmyeon’s throat with a few kitten licks at the tip before sinking down fully.

At the beginning of their relationship, there would have been no way Joonmyeon would have been even remotely okay with this sort of thing and the fact that he hasn’t run out crying is progress of some sort, Jongdae thinks.

Jongdae guides Joonmyeon’s hand to the crown of his own head. He knows he’s pushing it but he _needs_ to try this.  He pulls his mouth off Joonmyeon, hand still working over the length of his dick. “Pull it,” Jongdae commands, heart thudding against his ribcage. He sinks back down and pulls off, dribbles excess saliva onto Joonyeon’s cockhead and gets him wet as possible, something he knows Joonmyeon is weak to.

Joonmyeon’s eyes widen and he pauses briefly then proceeds to do exactly what he’s been told, if lightly at first. Jongdae keens. It’s not enough but nonetheless it ignites something low in Jongdae’s gut, spurs Jongdae on. He quickens the pace and lets the sounds fill the bathroom.

The resonance of footsteps makes them both freeze in place. They listen on and it seems this person just needs to wash their hands. The rush of the faucet is quick but doesn’t drown out the sound of Jongdae’s own heart in his ears. And just like that, the person leaves.

Getting caught would have _so_ be worth it; the look on Joonmyeon’s face is priceless.

 

* * *

 

 

Joonmyeon wears mortification on his round cheeks for a good ten minutes after that, but then Jongdae play-nibbles at his cheeks (they always look like the sweetest of peaches) and it loosens him up. They laugh about it and go buy overpriced vegan chocolate for dessert, share it outside (Jongdae eats most of it), and take a walk through the Channel Gardens. Their fingers laced, they stumble upon a street musician performing in front of a water fountain in the shape of a cherub surrounded by an ocean of green trimmings in various shapes, an idyllic setting if Jongdae’s ever seen one. They join the throng of people gathered around the performer and Jongdae rests his head in the dip of Joonmyeon’s neck as they listen to a rendition of Elvis' “The Thrill of Your Love” on the guitar and take everything in, savor soft chords caressed by saccharine tones that soothe the soul.

“I missed you _so_ bad,” Joonmyeon says, voice oddly raspy.

Jongdae meets his eyes and feels dizzy. He tries to act like his heart isn’t fluttering. “You’ve legitimately told me that a hundred times since I got here.”

“I know. But it’s true. I was ready to come to Rome myself and kidnap you for good.”

“Yeah, right. You say that but you’re like a cat in water when it comes to air travel.”

Joonmyeon hardens, shadows sharpening his features and Jongdae starts to sweat a little. Joonmyeon turns to face him, cradles his neck in his hand. “No. I’m serious. The pain of being apart was unbearable. I’m nothing without you, you know.” His lips turn up into a corny little grin.

Jongdae scoffs and knocks their foreheads together. Joonmyeon whines and complains, rubbing at his head and Jongdae dips in, silencing whatever complaint ready to burble from his yap with a kiss.

They drift off into soothing waters of conversation, pulled into a deep tide of what the future holds followed by more comfortable quiet cuddling. The moment is rudely interrupted by Baekhyun calling Jongdae’s phone. Jongdae gets the briefest urge to throw his phone into the water fountain but refrains and answers, ready to accuse Baekhyun of being the Biggest Cockblock on the Planet.

Baekhyun is barking insults at him before Jongdae can say hello. “You two had better be on your way over here or I’m deleting you both from the group chat permanently.” Jongdae checks the time. He’d forgotten all about Kyungsoo’s party.

Jongdae sighs. “Be there in twenty.”

 

* * *

 

 

Kyungsoo’s dorm party is jam packed. Jongdae’s never seen this many different types of cliques melded together, mingling as one and the atmosphere is alive and uncomfortably stuffy but somehow revitalizing.

Joonmyeon is in a far corner with a group of hipsters who are all drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, conversing with gusto. Jongdae’s got his eye trained on his lithe, tiny form from across the room as Baekhyun helps him (read: stands over him and inspects his own freshly painted nails) spike Joonmyeon’s orange juice with liquor.

"You sucked him off in public?!" Baekhyun squawks, finally giving Jongdae his undivided attention and Jongdae shushes him though the corners of his mouth are twitching upwards. Not only does Baekhyun have whiskers sharpied onto his cheeks, but he’s got slutty cat ears on his head and he’s wearing these skin tight, harlequin pants. He’s lucky he’s cute or else Jongdae would find him absolutely ridiculous looking right now.

"It was _so_ hot," Jongdae says.

Baekhyun scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Congrats, you seedy little imp.”

Jongdae pours alcohol into Joonymeon’s orange juice with calculation, his hands shaking and his smile disappearing, lines creasing his forehead. “Are you sure this will work?”

Baekhyun waves a dismissive hand at Jongdae. “Course I am; who’re ya talkin’ to?” He gets on the tips of his toes to survey the party, pouting. “Where the fuck did Kyungsoo disappear to? Like, who’s absent at their own goddamn party?”

“I saw him drag some scantily clad older looking sorority girl upstairs just a minute ago.”

“Was she like, mixed race? With big, curly brown hair and even bigger melons?”

Jongdae nods.

“I _knew_ he was fucking her! I swear to _God_ , that guy has zero class not to mention zero taste.”

Jongdae makes a face. His eyes flit to the front door and he watches Sehun the barista pad in, eyes wide, his body hugged in on himself.  “Sehun just walked in. Aw, he looks like a lost puppy.” Sehun spots them and makes his way over and Jongdae’s eyes drop to the impressive outline in his track pants. He gawks mid-wave. “A lost puppy with a _very_ large dick. Whoa.”

Baekhyun perks up, eyes honing in on Sehun like they’ve been trained to do so. “ _Told_ you he was hung. See you later, loser.”

Jongdae watches Baekhyun push through the crowd towards Sehun. He decides to likewise make his way over to Joonmyeon and his friends and sweat drips down his neck as he does. Jongdae hands his boyfriend the concoction and watches the older boy take a sip, anticipation thrumming through him in time with the bass of the horrid song that’s playing.

Joonmyeon wrinkles his nose and spits back into the cup almost immediately. “There’s alcohol in this.”

Jongdae blanches. “That…can’t be.”

“No, it definitely smells like it’s been spiked with rum or something,” he says, pushing the cup under Jongdae’s nose. “Smell.” Jongdae smells it then looks at Joonmyeon with a shrug.

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if I said I spiked it?” he asks.

Joonmyeon frowns deeply. “Why would you do something like that?”

“N-no,” Jongdae stammers. He presses his fingers to his temples, wobbling backward. He’s starting to feel the alcohol. “I’m just saying hypothetically, like, what if?”

Joonmyeon looks distraught. “I don’t…get this game.”

“It’s not a game, Joonmyeon. It’s—y’know what, never mind. I’m gonna go ask Baekhyun about it. See you in a bit, yeah?”

Retrieving the cup, Jongdae scurries through the sea of bodies back towards Baekhyun, almost spilling both his own drink and Joonmyeon’s rum-tainted OJ on the front of his shirt. His friend is so busy shoving his tongue down Sehun’s throat that it takes a while for him to realize Jongdae is yelling his name.

 “I think I fucked up,” Jongdae sputters, holding out the cup towards Baekhyun.

A look that says _bitch_ _how dare you?_ crosses Baekhyun’s face but disappointment quickly diffuses his anger. He takes a swig of the orange juice and his eyes grow wide with disgust. “You spiked his drink with rum?! Dumbass, I told you to mix in vodka so there wouldn’t be a smell.”

“We’ve got vodka?”

“Oh, we’ve got vodka,” he reassures. “We’ve got vodka up the ass.”

Jongdae raises an eyebrow. He briefly wonders if he somehow maybe drunk texted Baekhyun about that one time he tried butt-chugging too but that’s impossible because Baekhyun would _never_ let him live that shit down.

Baekhyun snatches the cup from his hand and goes to stand up. “Here, let me do it.”

Emitting a sound like a wounded puppy, Jongdae pulls on the hem of Baekhyun’s shirt. “I changed my mind, okay? I don’t think we should do this. I’m giving up on pranking him. It’s doing things to my conscience. It isn’t worth it.”

Baekhyun exhales through his nose. “Suit yourself, nerd!”

With that, he goes back to tonguing Sehun and poor kid doesn’t know he’s being used to make a stumpy jerkhole (Kyungsoo) jealous just to be thrown away afterwards.

Dying inside, Jongdae walks back to Joonmyeon who is chatting with the prettiest girl Jongdae has ever seen. She’s a petite, doe eyed thing with curls of strawberry blonde framing her baby face. She’s wearing an obscure band tee, one Jongdae’s never heard of and she's got a glass of orange juice in her hand as well.

“Jongdae, this is Irene,” Joonmyeon beams. “She’s new. She’s seen Margot and The Nuclear So and So’s twice before they broke up and knows all of Minus The Bear’s songs.”

Jongdae has no clue what either of those things are, but he smiles and nods and smiles some more, making small talk with Irene pleasantly.

Irene asks what Hogwarts house Jongdae belongs to and before Jongdae can give his answer (“Ravenclaw, _duh_ ”), Chanyeol’s voice pierces his ears.

“Jongdae,” he yells, people gathering around the table he’s set up.”Get your ass over here! We’re playing beer pong!”

 

* * *

 

 

Beer pong was a bad idea. Jongdae is usually good at holding his liquor, good at pacing himself even in stressful moments like these but he’s fighting a losing battle and the room has started to revolve. He has to get out of this before he ends up doing something stupider than spiking his boyfriend’s orange juice with liquor.

Where _is_ Joonmyeon anyway? He and Irene had been watching the game earlier but they’re no longer in sight.

Somewhere between seeing double and a girl nearly barfing on Chanyeol’s Adidas sneakers, Jongdae announces his resignation and wobbles over towards Baekhyun, who also reeks of alcohol and bad decisions.  

“Where’s Joonmyeon?” Jongdae demands.

“He’s over there,” Baekhyun says, pointing to a waving, glossy-cheeked Joonmyeon. He’s still with Irene but they’re sitting on the staircase now, bodies huddled together and squeezed toward the left side of the step so people can get by. Irene presses her shoulder closer to Joonmyeon’s as she shows him something on her phone and Jongdae doesn’t like the jealousy that rips through him. He's possessed by it.

“Kiss me,” Jongdae urges like it’s the end of the world. It feels like his life depends on it.

Baekhyun goes cross-eyed with shock. “ _What_?”

Jongdae grips Baekhyun’s shoulders in exigency. It feels like he's swallowed pebbles. “While he’s still looking, hurry up and kiss me!”

Baekhyun tries to swat at Jongdae’s hands but he fails, too wasted for coordination. “You’ve officially lost your mind.”

“Just do it,” Jongdae whines. He’s plastered on his best puppy dog look, the one he knows Baekhyun can’t resist. “For me. Please?”

Baekhyun looks like he’s contemplating the idea. He heaves a rum scented sigh, glances over at Joonmyeon and then back at Jongdae. Huffing out _fuck it,_ he grabs Jongdae by the neck and pulls him into an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss that Jongdae reciprocates even if it feels like he’s kissing his grandma. It lasts all of two seconds and when Jongdae looks over at Joonmyeon he’s frowning, features contorted in confusion but not at all livid like Jongdae had wanted. Jongdae watches Joonmyeon stand to his feet and amble through the crowd towards him, seemingly in slow motion.

“He’s coming over,” Jongdae tells Baekhyun, pushing the other boy off him harder than he’d meant to--so hard he collides into Sehun who had been witness to everything. He looks scandalized. Jongdae’s body is whirring with panic and twisted excitement.

“I hope all this shit was worth it,” Baekhyun growls, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jongdae grounds himself best he can, planting his feet firm. It feels like he’s floating in midair. He rounds his shoulders in preparation for the worst but when Joonmyeon reaches him finally, he just places a light hand on his elbow, disquiet etched on his features.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jongdae tells him, blood burning in his veins.

“It’s just--you’re acting strange. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink. Do you want me to take you home now? Call it a night?”

Jongdae retreats backwards stumbling over his feet. “N-no, I don’t want to _call it a night_ , I--” He puts a hand to his head; the room is spinning again.

He’s sweating. The soles of his feet tingle then gain a mind of their own and before Jongdae knows it, he’s sprinting past Joonmyeon and up the stairs like a madman guilty of heinous crimes. He needs a lie down. He doesn’t look back as he bolts through the corridors in a manner that would put The Flash to shame (he swears he can actually feel electricity generate beneath his heels) and reaches seclusion. Mind racing, he stops to catch his breath.

Minutes later, he looks up to see his boyfriend standing a few feet away from him, arms crossed. He looks like a disappointed dad who’s ready to reprimand a naughty child and after briefly hoping that spankings are in order, Jongdae curses aloud. _Of course_ Joonmyeon had followed him.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Joonmyeon demands, voice booming in the small space. Jongdae’s top lip is sweating. Joonmyeon makes his way closer towards Jongdae, still bent over by a wall like he’s about to hurl.

Jongdae feels seconds away from a break down. His thoughts an unremitting hum of discouragement that build into contempt screamed at him over a fucking megaphone.

“Not your dick, that’s for sure,” Jongdae spits in response. It’s unsightly word vomit; he wants to eat the words the second they hurdle from his lips.

Joonmyeon looks thwarted. “Jongdae, talk to me, I--”

Jongdae can’t hold it in. “You’re perfect! And I’m just a horny asshole who only ever thinks about being dicked down by you. I couldn’t even wait until Christmas break. I had to travel miles just for a chance to suck you off because I’m a seedy little imp and you’re such a gentleman, a literal angel who deserves a boyfriend better than me. Even if you _are_ a hipster.”

Joonmyeon’s eyes darken and it’s like staring at an eclipse. Jongdae’s dick stirs in his pants. “ _Don’t_ call me that.”

Jongdae blinks and something baleful spurs him on. “Don’t call you what? A fucking hipster?”

Joonmyeon is glowering. He takes a few steps forward and Jongdae retreats. He jolts when his back makes contact with the cool surface of the wall with a _thud_ , trembles at the weight of Joonmyeon pressing his chest against his. “Don’t. Call me. That.” Joonmyeon’s voice drops and lust licks low at Jongdae’s belly, chills rumbling through him.

“Why not?” Jongdae asks, slathering on his finest guise of self-confidence. His knees are jelly. “It’s what you are.”

Joonmyeon snarls at Jongdae. His hand comes up in a jerky movement towards Jongdae’s neck, the green veins in his hands popping out against pale skin as his fingers clench and shit, Jongdae’s always had a thing for that. He stops midway, makes a fist before slowly wrapping his fingers around Jongdae’s throat, gentle at first, only squeezing lightly when Jongdae gulps, Adam’s apple causing his choker to shift.  

Silence quells Joonmyeon’s lips as his eyes follow the movement and he hooks a finger around the choker, pulls at it, causes Jongdae to emit a gagged groan. Fire blazes in his eyes, his head tilting to the side with interest. He does it again for good measure and then lets go completely, slim fingers a light press against Jongdae’s collar bone.

Jongdae is impossibly turned on, frustration at a fever pitch, overcoming him. “Shit,” he rasps, the rise and fall of his chest alarmingly quick. “God, you’re—so…fucking _hot_ when you’re like this.”

Joonmyeon’s lips twitch up with a _tch_ and it’s too condescending for Jongdae to label it a smirk. “When I’m like what? Appalled and wholly unsatisfied with your unruly behavior?” Taking his time, he slides his hand from Jongdae’s collar, down his arm then to his wrist and before Jongdae knows it, Joonmyeon is dragging him into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind them.

Without more ado, Joonmyeon shoves at Jongdae’s shoulder, pushes and jolts him around, not hard enough for Jongdae to be hurt but just enough so that he’s intimidated by his cold stare and stumbles backwards toward the wall. In due time, Jongdae finds himself pinned between Joonmyeon’s hard abdomen and the equally hard surface again, their bodies flush. Jongdae struggles against his hold though he doesn’t want to be free from it, but Jonmyeon is quick and pushes his hips forwards so that their crotches brush. Dread soaks Jongdae to the core, fear once more watered down by lust.

Joonmyeon traps him there, grip tight and possessive, his gaze so sharp the last of Jongdae’s poise is lacerated.

“I’m going to say this once and once only,” Joonmyeon exhorts, crooking his fingers underneath the fabric of Jongdae’s choker. “I’m going to fuck you so hard the only thought left in that pretty little head of yours will be of me and me alone. Understand?”

Jongdae thinks he's having a wet dream. He gapes at Joonmyeon for a beat too long, reality hitting him like a punch to the gut when Joonmyeon tugs at the leather material. It cuts into his jugular so hard he chokes on saliva and his breath leaves him. He nods frantically, ever so eager.

All too innocently, Joonmyeon smiles and lets up. He moves to prod at Jongdae's lips with two fingers, looking pleased when Jongdae opens up and lets him push them inside his mouth. “ _Good boy_.”

Jongdae swears his heart ruptures from the commitment with which Joonmyeon affixes his mouth to his; he feels raw, a bare exposed nerve.

Jongdae lets Joonmyeon mark his neck up. He then gets rid of Jongdae’s clothing, hikes his pants, and underwear off his hips in one rude sharp motion. Joonmyeon stops to ogle Jongdae's cock standing at attention, then proceeds to strip him down stark naked leaving only the choker wrapped tight around his neck. He pulls off his own clothes and Jongdae nearly dies from anticipation as he watches on, all the while shivering. Joonmyeon’s armed with a strange sense of coolness; he stops to fold his own pants and shirt and puts them neatly to the side.

Joonmyeon continues to knock Jongdae around like a rag doll, then throws him down on the bed so that he’s lying flat on his back. He straddles Jongdae's chest and works a hand over his own hardening cock in long, slow strokes, eyes roaming wide over Jongdae's vulnerability. Jongdae can’t tear his eyes away. He moves to snake a hand between his own legs and wrap his hand around himself but Joonmyeon knocks it away before he can do, making Jongdae jump and whine involuntarily. Joonmyeon smirks, eyes half lidded.

“No touching yourself unless I instruct you to do so.”

Jongdae is enraptured. Speechless. His eyes broaden.

“Confirm that you comprehend me.”

Jongdae nods.

Joonmyeon moves and Jongdae stiffens. He lifts Jongdae’s legs and teases his hole with his bare cockhead, precum creating a wet slick sound as it rubs against the puckered flesh. Jongdae rocks desperately against the sensation. Joonmyeon stills Jongdae's hips with a hand tight on his hips and halts his ministrations. Glaring, he leans in and wraps his fingers around Jongdae’s neck again, this time squeezing so hard Jongdae feels tears throb at the corners of his eyes, lungs burning for air. His cock aches with need for attention but then Joonmyeon is dialing back the pressure, removing his hand to twist his fingers in Jongdae’s hair and pull instead.

“So hungry for my cock, aren't you?” Joonmyeon grunts, gripping the strands tighter. Jongdae’s neck is straining. “Want me to fill you up until you’re drenched? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

It takes a few seconds for sound to successfully leave Jongdae’s throat. “Yes, fuck--oh my _god_ , yes.”

“Well you’re not getting it until you’ve fucking earned it.”

Nudging him with his knee, Joonmyeon pushes Jongdae’s body off the bed to the floor, makes him sit with his back pressed against the side of the bedframe. He puts two hands at the sides of his head on the mattress and prods his cock against his lips. Jongdae’s so entranced he just sits there with his jaw locked, forgetting to breathe for a beat. Joonmyeon makes him open wide with a hand at his chin, pushes his length in slow, grunts at the feel of the flat of Jongdae's tongue on the underside of his cock. He stops once he hits the back of Jongdae's throat and moans low at the sensation, begins to move in short hurried thrusts, two hands wound in Jongdae's hair, abuses his mouth until tears are rolling down Jongdae’s cheeks. Jongdae is sobbing from how good he feels, lungs and throat burning, vision dotted, senses overwhelmed with the taste and the sheer excitement of it all.

This is far from a wet dream.

Jongdae tries to steady Joonmyeon's hips with his hands. It’s the wrong move, an insult to the game he’s curating and Joonmyeon counters it with a scoff, pulls himself from Jongdae's mouth, grabs his wrists and glares at him.

“If you want me to stop, say quinoa. If you’re unable to speak, blink hard twice.”

Jongdae barely hears what Joonmyeon whispers over his own breathing, but once he registers how ridiculous a safe word it is, his chest rumbles with the ghost of a laugh. He squelches amusement, doesn’t have much time for anything else because Joonmyeon moves to grab his belt off the nightstand, securing Jongdae's wrists with it. Something sinister flickers in his eyes, the shadows on the ceiling dancing ominously under the orange light. Dread slithers down Jongdae’s back and Joonmyeon’s touch is gone as quickly as it came as he sits down on the edge of the bed and leers up at Jongdae.

“Lie in my lap. Ass up. Keep your eyes on the floor. If you try to look back—if you move even slightly, I’ll make it so you come just from this, without my dick in you, no matter how long it takes because you don’t deserve the luxury.”

Jongdae gulps thickly. He obeys, drapes his body over Joonmyeon’s slight thighs and stares anxiously at the blue carpeting. He’s overtaken by feelings of being in the ocean much like he was this morning, but it’s different. Instead of being consumed by calmness, he's consumed by roaring tides and wicked winds. The commotion is terrifying and simultaneously enlivening.

“Count upwards from one and thank me afterwards,” Joonmyeon continues. “If your voice falters even the slightest bit, we’ll start over from one. Yes?”

Jongdae’s muscles clench and Joonmyeon soothes a hand over his ass cheek, kneads and squeezes hard when his answer fails to come.

“Yes,” says Jongdae.

The first hit causes him to gasp, not because it’s particularly forceful (it’s almost shy) but because Joonmyeon had gone silent; quiet had protracted between them for so long that Jongde is startled by it.

“One,” Jongdae counts, trying to keep his voice steady. “Thank you.”

Joonmyeon hums and the sound makes Jongdae’s cock jump. “Good boy.”

Jongdae holds his breath. Three more slaps follow. They’re all underwhelming; Jongdae knows despite this compelling visor he’s maintaining, Joonmyeon’s holding back on him.

Leather chafes against his wrists and neck as he squirms, cock aching between his thighs. Jongdae wishes Joonmyeon had decided to use the belt on his ass instead.

“Five.” Jongdae croaks out. He knows perfectly well it’s only the fourth spanking, but he needs more and is willing to risk anything to get it. Breath catching in his throat when Joonmyeon stops moving, things go completely quiet again. Jongdae pushes his ass up, petulant, but Joonmyeon just pushes his hips back down again.

“Are you trying to provoke me on purpose?” Joonmyeon asks. Jongdae’s teeth catch on his lip. “Answer me.” Unrelenting, he pulls at Jongdae’s hair so that their eyes meet.

“No, I wasn’t, I--” Jongdae averts his gaze and glances down. Joonmyeon follows to where the other boy’s eyes are fixed on the belt constraining his wrists.

 “Ah- _ha_ ,” Joonmyeon sighs. He runs his hand over the leather bondage. Jongdae’s hips buck harder. “So _this_ is what you wanted.” He loosens the buckle and releases his boyfriend’s hands. Jongdae faintly registers the sound of Joonmyeon folding the belt in half.  “Okay. Let’s start over then, shall we?” He grazes Jongdae’s ass with the cool material. Jongdae hisses and shudders.

Joonmyeon draws a path against the small curve Jongdae’s ass before bringing the belt down against his flesh. Jongdae tamps down a yelp; it tingles but doesn’t hurt the way he needs.

“One,” Jongdae sputters, breath thinning. “Thank you.”

Four more. Jongdae’s lost all sense of composure; his moans uninhibited now, hips rutting against Joonmyeon’s lap, stuttering over his words, too consumed with the pleasure to focus. His ass cheeks are throbbing. He wishes he had a mirror, wants to see how red and flared the marks on his ass are, can only imagine the look on Joonmyeon’s face right now. He can’t wait to awe at the bruises that are sure to form from the chastisement.

He wants _more_.

Again, Jongdae messes up intentionally. “F-four—I mean, fi—“

Striking the fleshiest part of his butt hard, Joonmyeon tuts. Jongdae screams which causes Joonmyeon to slap him again and grab a pinching fistful of his asscheek.

Joonmyeon stills and sighs, exasperated. “Enough of this,” he says. “Your lack of obedience is laughable.” His grasp loosens and he stands abruptly. Jongdae falls to the floor, his ass achy and twinging once he sits up to observe Joonmyeon, who has turned to walk away from him. He thinks he’s going to abandon him there--bruised and feeble, but he doesn’t.

There’s no lube in sight. Jongdae watches Joonmyeon acquire lotion from a bedside table and apply it to his cock. He makes his way back over hastily, and Jongdae lets himself be backed into a corner for the umpteenth time. Joonmyeon hikes Jongdae up with his legs wrapped around his waist and enters him raw in one single stroke, cock stretching him apart and stuffing him full. He doesn’t give Jongdae any time to adjust (not that he needs it) and pistons his hips, fucks into him hard, pace cruel and Jongdae’s blood is broiling fire, mouth hung open in a silent scream, ass and thighs clenching. He didn’t think Joonmyeon had it in him, was a fool to assume he was too sweet to even feign roughness, but _boy_ is he glad he was wrong. He holds eye contact as Joonmyeon's cock slams into his prostate, body encased in heat, the thought to try to maintain a screen of defiance fading. It's pointless now; Joonmyeon’s made it obvious he’s in control and plans to stay that way.

He’s done as Joonmyeon said; he hasn’t touched himself at all but he was doomed from the start and with the pace Joonmyeon’s maintaining, he won’t last long.

“I’m close,” Jongdae warns.

Joonmyeon shakes his head. He pulls out, a punitive shift, lets Jongdae drop to his unsteady feet, and gets a tight grip on the base of his dick.

“Not yet,” he demands, black of his eyes boundless. Jongdae’s cock is warring with his mind as Joonmyeon shoves him down on the bed again, on his back. “Not until I tell you.” He leans in and pushes Jongdae’s legs to the sides of his head, tilts his hips up, ass and all its glory on display, hole clenching around air and drinks in the sight. Calmly he studies the raged rise and fall of Jongdae’s chest, eyes glowing with pride in the mess he’s made of him before pushing his length back in and continues to fuck Jongdae open.

Jongdae grips Joonmyeon’s biceps for purchase, moans devolving into broken little whines as Joonmyeon pounds into him, aim of his cock just shy of where Jongdae needs it, knows he’s avoiding it purposely. Two can play at that game; Jongdae keeps clenching his ass tight in attempt to break Joonmyeon. It’s successful for but a moment; Joonmyeon looks like he’s unraveling, sweat running down his nose, breathing quick and airy but it’s short lived; Joonmyeon regains control, drags blunt nails up Jongdae’s thighs, across his chest lightly at first. a mere tickle as his hips work. He retraces his path once, twice more, each time with more fervor, red marks flaring against Jongdae’s skin and he’s ascending.

“You like that? When I scratch you, mark you up. Show everyone who you belong to.”

Throat openly bared, Jongdae nods. Joonmyeon takes the hint and grips his choker just so the material cuts into his skin.

It's not enough.

“With your hands,” Jongdae grinds out.

A flash of worry deflates Joonmyeon's composure and it breifly seems as if his visage is crumbling only to be reconstructed; once he realizes that there’s no safe way to do this, he wraps one hand over Jongdae’s throat, then the other with haste, grip unforgiving, puts his weight on Jongdae's throat and _squeezes,_ fingers digging into skin and muscle. Jongdae cries out but makes no sound.

A serge of adrenaline shoots through Jongdae, ignites his bones. He loves the dreamy, whited out haze, the loss of control.

He’s done it before by himself with scarves and plastic bags and even a belt once, but nothing compares to this--being held down and dominated, ruined by rough hands while cruel hips work him open.

Joonymeon's hips gain even more speed and Jongdae's eyes roll back; he swears he can feel his soul leave him.

“Do it,” Joonmyeon grunts. “Now.”

It’s feels like Jongdae's waited a lifetime for this release; he comes untouched, load thick and hot. Joonmyeon fucks his orgasm out of him and milks him dry, rapacious. He takes his hand off his throat and Jongdae’s entire body goes limp, cock twitching as he sputters and coughs, his vision spotted and his ribs rattling with the need to fill his lungs.

Joonmyeon stops to praise Jongdae briefly then bites at his neck, withdrawing his cock fully, tip hitching on tight needy muscle before plowing back in and fucking deep, hitting the coil inside Jongdae dead on now. He keeps it up until he's tensing and spilling rapid inside his ass. Jongdae's body is raptured with the sensation of being filled.

“Fuck,” Jongdae curses, unable to move, sticky with sweat and cum. He manages to regulate his breathing. There’s a pleasant sting radiating through his entire being.

“Fuck,” Joonmyeon parrots, collapsing on the pillow beside him.

When Jongdae turns to look at his boyfriend, he’s grinning from ear to ear, peachy cheeks glistening.

 

* * *

 

 

“Baekhyun told me everything.” Joonmyeon confesses. They’re basking in the afterglow, Jongdae’s head cradled in the crook of Joonmyeon’s neck.

Jongdae’s heart stutters. “What...?”

“About a month ago, he told me that you told him your kinks. He’s really the one who encouraged me to give this thing a try sooner than later. He even gave me videos to study up on.”

Jongdae presses the heel of his palm to his hot cheek. “Oh my god.” It makes sense. No fucking wonder Joonmyeon had been acting bolder the entire duration of this trip; he never in the past would have ever agreed to spontaneous public blow jobs or initiate things like he did yesterday. Jongdae feels so dumb for not noticing something was up. Embarrassment mottles his upper body. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Joonmyeon says with a giggle. “I watched endless kinky pornos and perused through so many weird blogs I think I had an identity crisis. I mean, I didn't mean for it to happen tonight, but I was insanely envious of someone else kissing you like that.” He smirks and lets out another relieved chuckle against Jongdae’s forehead. “Didn’t know I was the jealous type until now. I used the whole hipster thing as an excuse. It’s not necessarily my thing, this kinky stuff.” Jongdae looks him in the eyes. “But. It’s interesting, I guess? Sorry if I was…boring before.”

Jongdae deflates. “No. It’s not like that _at all_.”

“I know you’re into it, so seeing you excited makes me excited. Were you that desperate for this that you used Baekhyun to make me jealous of all people?”

Desperate doesn’t begin to cover it. Jongdae hides his face in his hands and lets out a drawn out groan. Joonmyeon chortles.

“I was in on the prank thing,” Jongdae admits. Joonmyeon doesn’t react. “Baekhyun was the one who suggested it, but I went along with it; I shouldn’t have.”

Smiling, Joonmyeon runs the pad of his thumb against a patch of bruised skin on Jongdae’s neck. “I know.”

Jongdae frowns. “He told you about the prank war, too?”

“Yup. Just didn’t think you’d take it as far as you did.”

 Jongdae chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Sorry if I scared you. I scared myself to be honest. I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?” Jongdae shakes his head and Joonmyeon continues to run his fingers over the sensitive marks on Jongdae’s neck. Jongdae peers into Joonmyeon's eyes and Joonmyeon’s fingers tingle his skin as they dance over Jongdae's chest, his heart sinking. He feels ten times as shitty. “It shouldn’t have happened this way. We should have talked about it first, planned a scene or whatever, but--”

“N-no,” Jongdae interrupts. Joonmyeon looks confused. “I…I liked it. I liked the way it happened, I…”

“What is it?”

“It’s fucking embarrassing. Nevermind.”

“Tell me. Don’t ever be afraid to talk to me, okay? I’d never judge you. No matter the circumstance.”

Jongdae plays with his choker, eyes focused on the mole on Joonmyeon’s chest. He meets his boyfriend's eyes and nearly drowns in the sincerity and fondness swimming in them. “Honestly, you can be rougher with me. Don’t hold back so much. I can take it.”

Joonmyeon’s face softens. He laughs. “ _Noted_.”

“Also…I love you. I never got to say it back, um, earlier. Sorry for acting like I didn’t hear you; I _heard_ you. Loud and clear. I was just…scared. It’s just…no one’s ever said that to me before and I guess I panicked.”

An epistle of kindness written in the press of his lips against Jongdae’s, Joonmyeon smiles and brushes lightly over the ruddy color dusting Jongdae’s cheeks with his thumb.

“No need to apologize. I love you.”

 

* * *

 

 

It seems Baekhyun's made up with Kyungsoo because he’s there when they see Jongdae off at the airport the next day. Sehun’s there as well, for that matter. Jongdae doesn’t fail to notice the way Sehun and Kyungsoo are clinging to each other, Sehun’s arm looped around Kyungsoo’s shoulders as Kyungsoo’s hand rests on Baekhyun’s waist. Jongdae has questions he doesn’t necessarily know if he wants the answers to.

Baekhyun moves to hug Jongdae and immediately starts to sniffle and shake in his arms.

“Are you seriously crying?” Jongdae asks, pinching his friend in the side. “I’ll be back in like, two months.”

Grumbling, Baekhyun straightens to face Jongdae, brushing his tears off his cheeks with a sleeve. “Shut up. I’m just happy you two weirdos finally figured your shit out.”

Jongdae chuckles and grips Baekhyun’s shoulders firmly. “Thank you.”

“Anything for my kinky children. If you need any more help, just call me and ask.”

“I absolutely will not. Do that. Ever again. Think it’s best if you stay out of my sex life for a while.”

“You’re probably right," Baekhyun says, eyes crinkling as he chuckles. “I miss you already."

 

* * *

 

Jongdae and Joonmyeon don’t really need words; they hug until Jongdae’s plane is meant to depart. Before he boards, Joonmyeon kisses Jongdae on the mouth while tugging on his choker hard.

Jongdae can tell this is the start of something great.

 

* * *

 

The air in Italy tastes different. Jongdae flops down into bed as soon as he gets back to his dorm with an odd tang of bittersweetness coating the roof of his mouth. His roommate is out (he was probably driven away by the horrid smell radiating from underneath Jongdae’s bed and he still needs to unpack and do laundry because he’s pretty sure he has no clean clothes for tomorrow. But it will have to wait). His body and heart alike are impossibly heavy, regret careening into him. Home always feels strange to come back to; without Joonmyeon he feels like he’s left it.

Before sleep, he jerks off to the memory of what he’s deemed the best fuck of his life, comes so quickly it scares him. He snaps pictures of the mess he's made of himself and sends them over to Joonmyeon, then immediately knocks out.

 

* * *

 

 

(The next week, Jongdae gets a choker from Joonmyeon in the mail, a pretty white innocuous lacy thing. He digs deeper into the package to find a concealed black leather one with spikes. There’s a paper crane folded alongside it. Jongdae squints and takes a few seconds to decipher the messy text written on it.

“Don’t wear these for anyone else but me, Good Boy.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -has it rly been half a year fdfjlghdfgh i'm......sorry  
> -this is shit lol byeee


End file.
